


These Are the Days Of Our Lives

by SegaBarrett



Series: It's a Kind of Magic [3]
Category: Queen (Band), Supernatural
Genre: Crack, Gen, Past Selves, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-07
Updated: 2019-01-07
Packaged: 2019-10-05 22:54:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17333942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SegaBarrett/pseuds/SegaBarrett
Summary: One set of Queen isn't enough to fight the ghosts that want to disrupt the Queen + Adam Lambert concert. Sam and Dean are there to help.





	These Are the Days Of Our Lives

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I still don't own Queen or Supernatural.
> 
> A/N: Some references to Freddie's illness. I tried to keep them tasteful and relatively light-hearted (considering it's crack), but hopefully also somewhat accurate.

“So I just got a call from Roger Taylor,” Sam explained to Dean as he leaned back in the chair in the bunker. “He said they’re worried that they won’t be able to play a concert tonight because there a spirits causing trouble at the venue. He remembered us and asked if we could come by and help.” 

“Are you sure it’s not like... Phantom of the Opera or something?” Dean asked. 

“Well, we won’t know until we get there...” 

“Let’s hit it.”

**** 

Queen had only been at Taco John’s Stadium in Bismarck, North Dakota for a few hours, but a lot had already gone wrong. 

“You know I thought we hung up our hunting... shears? Boots? Years ago...” Roger mused, “But this has got me perplexed. 3 roadies and 2 concession workers injured… I don’t like it.” 

“Sounds like the place has got something tied to it. And, well, it only opened last year,” Brian reminded him. “We just need to keep it quiet from...” He cocked his head in the direction of where Adam Lambert was applying foundation and checking his sound equipment. “I don’t know that he knows what he signed up for. You remember how Paul reacted...” 

“So we have to be stealthy. Got it,” Roger agreed. 

*** 

“We’re here to see Queen,” Dean stated, flashing his badge. “I’m Agent Lake And this is Agent Palmer.” 

“Oh yeah, I heard you would be here,” the woman behind the counter said. “Mr. - I mean, Dr. May and Mr. Taylor are pretty shaken up. Someone really could have been hurt. You don’t think someone would have done something on purpose to try and stop the show or something?” 

“That’s what we’re here to find out. Have you noticed anything odd like... cold spots?” Dean asked. 

“Anything at all,” Sam agreed. 

“Well... there was something. I could have sworn I heard Brian - Dr. May I mean - talking, but then I ran into him in a completely different room...” 

“When was this?” Sam asked. 

“Like ten minutes ago.” 

*** 

Brian May was hard at work. He was combing his hair for the show, trying not to think of all the odd things that had been happening recently, and also checking his home security footage to see how his foxes and hedgehogs were doing. 

He peaked into the mirror and was very surprised to see that his hair had gotten darker. 

He also looked a lot younger. 

“Hello.” 

Brian jumped up and whirled around, finding himself staring at another version of himself, about thirty years younger. 

“Uh.. hi,” he managed. 

“...how are you doing today?” the younger Brian asked. 

“Well... it took a turn,” older Brian replied. “What are you doing here?” 

“We came to help you stop the vengeful spirit under this venue. The Winchesters are coming, too.” 

“Well, there’s no way that can end badly... And wait... ‘we’? Who came with you?” 

“It’s all of us.” 

“... Freddie too?” 

“Freddie too.” 

***

“Freddie, keep inconspicuous. I don’t think anyone will necessarily be ready to see you,” John Deacon warned. 

“I’m always inconspicuous. See?” Freddie gestured to the shades from the Invisible Man that he was wearing. 

“Where did Brian and Roger get off to anyway?” John asked. Freddie shrugged, peeking around and taking in all of 2019 with eagerness. 

“Freddie! John!” 

They whirled around to see the Winchesters looking at them. 

“How are... you here? I mean this version of you?” Sam asked. 

“Brian and Roger weren’t going to be able to defeat this thing by themselves,” Freddie explained, “So we needed to bring reinforcements. Queen is better together.” 

“So there are two Brians and two Rogers in this venue right now?” Dean inquired. 

“Well.. yeah,” Freddie said. “Where’s the other John though?” 

“Retired,” Sam said, “Since... around 1997... after...” 

“What the hell is going on?” The sound of Roger Taylor’s voice cut off what he was going to say. 

They turned to see both Rogers standing there, hands on their hips. 

“Hello Roger, Roger,” Freddie said. 

“We’re here for the spirit,” Dean said. “I guess the more the... merrier?” 

“Freddie!” exclaimed present-day Roger, running over to hug him. “I missed you.” 

Freddie blushed.

“Miss me later. We gotta get this thing before there’s no show to save!” 

“Do you have any idea what it could be?” Dean inquired. 

“Probably something this venue disturbed. It was only built last year,” the elder Brian explained, “So I figure it must have kicked up some angry spirits.” 

Sam pulled out his cell phone. 

“I’m looking at the history of the place and -“ 

“What is that?” Freddie cut in, taking it out of Sam’s hand. 

“A cell phone... like... a mobile phone.” 

“Like on Wiseguy,” Freddie agreed, “but look, you can push buttons and pictures come up - oh, that’s a dirty one. Sorry, dear.” He handed it back. 

Dean gave Sam a look. 

“Well, if there are bones we had better find ‘em salt ‘em burn ‘em, The way you should have burned that beard, Freddie,” he said a second later. “What time does the show start?” 

“Doors open at 6:30. We have 3 hours,” older Roger said. 

They all looked up at the sudden sound of footsteps. 

“Oh shit,” older Roger mumbled, “All of you... us... all of other us hide.”

The younger Brian dove under a chair, and Freddie attempted to shove both himself and the younger Roger into a janitor’s closet, with marginal success. John stared around awkwardly.

Sam and Dean shoved their hands in their pockets.

The door opened to reveal American Idol runner-up Adam Lambert, who was attempting to figure out if he could tape up the snapped end of his favorite pair of headphones or whether he just needed to throw them out and buy another pair. 

“Hi Brian, hi Roger,” he greeted, before seeing Sam and Dean, and then John. “Hi.” 

“Hi Adam,” Older Brian and Roger chorused. 

“How are you, Adam? You need anything?” Brian inquired. “Gonna be a great show, right?”

“Aren’t you that guy?” Dean inquired. “You sing the song that they play at Staples every time I need to buy printer paper.”

Adam didn’t seem to know quite how to respond to that, so he gave a slow nod and then looked back at the others.

“Well, I’ll be in the dressing room, you don’t happen to have…” he began.

The closet door opened and Freddie and younger Roger tumbled out. 

“…Hello,” younger Roger managed.

Freddie gave a shy wave.

“…We may need to talk,” said the older Brian with a sigh.

***

“So the main cliff notes that I got of that is that we’re fighting a ghost and the band is back from the 80’s to help and… you’re Freddie Mercury.” Adam stared open-mouthed at him.

“Technically, 1990,” Freddie supplied, “And yes, I am.”

“Ah!” Adam exclaimed.

“Ah!” Freddie exclaimed back at him.

“Ah!” older Brian exclaimed to them both. “Let’s get back on track. Dean, you go with Roger – that one – to try and see if there’s anyone buried under the venue. Other me, research with Sam to see what you can find out about what we may be dealing with here. Other Roger and I will load up the salt shells and try to make sure that we aren’t causing a paradox. John, Adam, and Freddie… Be ready to come in for backup.”

“Why do I have to be backup?” Freddie complained.

“Because you’re,” older Brian held up one finger, “Ill, and two,” he held up another, slowly realizing that Freddie was mirroring him, “Very noticeable.”

“Oh great, now I’ve got two mother hens on me…” Freddie groused.

“I can teach you about 2019?” Adam suggested.

“…Fair enough.”

***

“So... how are you dealing with seeing your past self, anyway?” Dean asked. 

“Better than I’m dealing with seeing Freddie again,” older Roger replied, “I know he’s got to go back to the past eventually but... I wish he could stay with us.”

“Tell me about it. My mother, who died when I was four, recently came back – long story – and we’re not on the best terms. I wished that would happen for almost my entire life and now that it happened… She’s miles away. ”

Roger looked at him.

“It seems like you and your brother tend to have a lot of family issues that are kind of normal but then also… not.”

“Well, other versions of you just traveled in time to help us fight ghosts, and you’re also one of the most popular bands to ever exist on this universe so…”

“Fair, fair,” Roger told him. “Let’s go look for dead bodies. Which is completely normal behavior on the night of a concert.”

***

“How is Freddie holding up?” Sam asked with concern. 

“I wish I knew. It’s not like he tells us... not really. He always puts on a brave face... jokes, acts like nothing is wrong...” 

“Sounds like someone I know.”

“Dean?” Brian asked.

“How’d you guess? What’s going on with him, anyway?”

“What isn’t? Dean has been through things that… Well, I couldn’t explain them or even understand them if I tried, and I have had some weird stuff happen to me too so that is saying something. But he just hides it under a smile and some cheeseburgers.”

“Well… Maybe I can try to talk to Dean, if you can try and talk to Freddie and see if you can convince him to talk to us about his illness a little more.”

“Well… I was infected by demon blood for a while and had weird powers, so I’ll see if I can tie that back around.”

Brian stared at him.

“Of all the things I thought you were going to say, I don’t think I was ready for that one. On second thought, maybe don’t lay on Freddie that you used to be infected by demon blood. Anyway, so what are you seeing on that little thing about the history of this place?” 

Sam scrolled through his phone, pursing his lips.

“Well, it says that before the venue was built here, this was a meeting house for an ‘unusual religious sect’ that shunned music as the devil, tempting young people to sin. Apparently, they were involved in burning Beatles records and lighting Elvis merchandise on fire. They… seem to have all died mysteriously at a big showdown in the 1970’s after the police were closing in on them for tax evasion.”

Brian stared at him.

“That sounds horrible. How come I never heard about any of this?”

“It looks like only three or four people were members of the sect by then, but they would be pretty angry spirits if a music hall was built on top of them… The question is where.”

“And how quickly can we fix it?” Brian continued, “I don’t want fans in here if there’s this thing going around, any more than the other me probably does.”

“Let’s hurry back, then.” 

***

“We should stop by your dressing room and get some rifles,” Roger suggested.

“Rifles?” Brian replied, “You do remember that I wrote ‘Put Out the Fire’, right?”

“What are we going to fill with salt shells then?”

“I don’t know. We’ll figure something out.” Brian walked over to his dressing room and hesitated at the door. “Roger, I should warn you…”

Roger pushed the door open and was greeted to the sound of scattering all around the room.

“Brian, what the hell! Are those… badgers?”

“I’m very invested in saving the badger,” Brian explained. “So I had to take a few of them on the road with me so I could rehabilitate them. They’re healing and then they can be released back into the wild.” 

Roger cocked his head to the side.

“All right, so we’re going to need something to fire salt shells with,” he said again.

“Oh! I think I do have a tranquilizer gun,” Brian said suddenly, “That would probably take salt shells if we reconfigured it a bit.”

“Why do you have a tranquilizer gun, Bri?”

“In case I need to get an animal and take it to go get vaccinated.”

“…I would ask, but I probably shouldn’t.” Roger stepped around a badger and found a box of salt in the cupboard. Brian held up the tranquilizer gun. 

“Well, let’s hope that we can shoot some ghosts…”

A badger shuffled by, and Roger looked at Brian again.

“We’ll leave some food out for them,” Brian said cheerily.

***

“I’m bored,” Freddie announced as soon as they had found themselves in Adam’s dressing room.

“I can’t believe I’m sitting in a room with Freddie Mercury,” Adam said, walking around in a circle. “And that there are ghosts. Both of these are blowing my mind, you guys.”

“What should we do while we wait to see if they need us?” John asked. 

“I don’t know, I have some stuff here,” Adam said, gesturing to a stack of games and books on a shelf.

“What’s Cards Against Humanity?” Freddie inquired.

“It’s… like Apples to Apples,” Adam explained. Freddie still looked confused. “It’s a game where you put down cards to try and make humorous but, in this case, offensive statements.”

“That sounds amazing,” Freddie said. “Let’s play.”

Adam and John exchanged looks, and Adam let out a nervous laugh. 

“…Sure. What could go wrong?”

***

“How is he?” Younger Brian asked Adam over the phone.

“He drank five Red Bulls, I couldn’t stop him, Brian,” Adam replied.

“Put him on,” Brian urged. When he did, he said, “Freddie, no part of that can be good for your immune system…” younger Brian said.

“You’re an immune system,” Freddie fired back and hung up. He looked at Adam and John. “Okay, so my card says ‘What’s that noise?’”

****

“I keep thinking that this day is going to end,” Roger said, lugging a shovel over his shoulder. 

“Well, I hope so,” Dean replied, “Every day is a long day, and you need to get as much sleep as you can before you go out and kill something else that’s trying to kill you.”

“I mean… this day will end and then Freddie will be gone again. Back to the past. And I don’t want him to…” He slammed the shovel against the tile paneling beneath his feet and began to pull it up to reveal the Earth underneath. “And apparently what makes Freddie come back is all this weird shit that I thought Brian and I left behind, years ago.” He lifted a patch of dirt. “Like, I don’t really want to be back here digging up old bones but…”

“But sometimes hunting is the only way to bring them back…” Dean said.

“Nothing like digging up a coffin to bring back your old friends,” Roger mused. 

“Tell me about it.”

***

Freddie gleefully set down his black card, on which he had written, “I read it in the papers, there’s ____on every page.” 

“Really?” John asked, “It just had to be my song, didn’t it?”

Freddie shrugged.

“Put down your cards, boys. You too, Rando.” He tapped the extra deck. “And three, two, one.” John and Adam tossed down their cards, and Freddie picked up one for Rando. He flipped them over and sang out, “I read it in the papers… there’s… porn? On every page…” He snickered. “I read it in the papers… there’s… making the penises kiss? On every page.” He paused. “Well, I wish.” He sucked in a breath and then, “I read it in the papers… there’s… taking out a man’s balls and eyes and… wait, what? On every page… Oh dear, I certainly hope not.”

“Oh hey, my phone is vibrating, hold on,” Adam said to Freddie. 

“Freddie, the text said that Sam, Dean and the ... younger? Older? Brian and Roger are going after the ghosts, but it’s over near the concession stand, so they need us to keep everyone away from the stands...” 

“How are we going to do that?” John asked. 

Adam thought about it. 

“Oh my God... if Freddie came out and performed... everyone would have to come out and see it.” 

“Me, dear? I haven’t performed live since... Barcelona in ‘87!” 

“And people would drop everything they were doing to come see you! And it’s got to be...” Adam nodded to his own idea, “The Show Must Go On!” 

“But I only sang that once - after drinking a LOT of vodka. It nearly totaled me. I don’t want to disappoint.” 

John leaned in and grabbed his hand. 

“You won’t.” 

“What if I don’t even remember the song?” Freddie asked. 

“That’s the Pink Floyd ‘The Show Must Go On’. And don’t follow that. That ended badly,” John said. “If you forget the lyrics - just make them up! You’ve done it before.” 

“And if I pass out?” 

“...Then The Show Must Go On,” Adam replied. Freddie flipped him off. 

“I’ll do it, darling. Get me into makeup and mic’d up.” 

“Aye aye,” Adam said. 

“And get me three more of those Red Bull things...” 

**** 

“All right, look up a bit.” The make-up artist, who was more than a bit confused but had apparently decided she wasn’t being paid to ask questions, dabbed Freddie’s face with more foundation. “Are you keeping the sunglasses on, or did you want me to add some eye makeup too?” 

“I’ll keep the shades on,” he replied, “I think they make me look fab.” 

They also helped Freddie to not show the utter panic that was running through him right now. Fight a demon? Kill a ghost? Those were things he could do. Record an album? No problem. But go out on stage in front of all those people? 

He still remembered all the stares at the 1990 Brit Awards, the gapes, the whispered comments, one person off to the right yelling something that Freddie hadn’t quite been able to hear but Roger had. What if he stepped out and no one wanted them there? What if they booed him off stage? 

Maybe he really had been replaced. 

He didn’t have a lot of choice, though. If he didn’t distract all of these people, they might be in harm’s way. 

And they had come to see Queen. 

He could hear Adam on stage finishing up the first verse. He knew exactly when to come out. 

“Is my mic switched on?” He asked the tech, who nodded. 

And then he stepped on, tilted his head back, and sang:   
_“The show must go on...”_

It became easy after that. They began to trade off parts of the verse, gesturing back and forth, Adam taking over the “turning, turning, turning” as Freddie playfully spun him.

The lights were hot and he was sweating, but it was exhilarating. Everyone seemed transfixed, at least what they could see or the first few rows. 

*** 

Dean found himself facing three growling, angry spirits, each of whom was carrying a huge ax. 

He attempted to lure them into the corner, but they were not so easily led.

“We hear the music! We hear the music! We will stamp it out!” they screamed, buzzing by Dean’s head and grabbing him roughly around the collar.

Brian saw one next, as the angry woman ghost knotted a claw in his hair and yanked him backwards.

“The singer is here… the singer is here…”

“I wouldn’t say I’m the singer, not usually, though I mean, I would say ’39 is an underrated classic…” Brian began, looking around to see if he could get some help as the ghost pulled him five feet above the air. 

Dean fired off a salt shell from the tranquilizer gun, and the ghost dropped Brian, who fell to the floor with a crash.

“You okay?” Sam asked.

“Just bruised.” Brian rubbed his shoulder. “Look out!”

One of the ghosts had swooped down and attempted to throttle Sam. 

“Shoot it!” Sam declared, looking over at Dean, who was still attempting to get his collar free with variable success.

Roger took aim.

“Yes, come get me, drummer, you play the drums of SATAN!” one of the ghost women declared.

Roger cocked his head to the side and fired.

“We’ve actually met Satan and Roger really doesn’t…” Dean mused, then snapped back into action. “Burn the bones, now!”

That was Sam’s cue. He ran over to the pile of bones and flicked a match. 

“I really hope Freddie is distracting all of these people,” Sam whispered as he placed it on the ground.

“Oh my God!” he heard a woman scream, “Tisha said a man in a business suit sounds just like Freddie Mercury but looks like he just came from a business meeting!” Ten people ran right after her.

“WE WILL KILL YOU!” one of the ghost women yelled, before bursting into flames.

Brian couldn’t resist adding a stomp, stomp, clap after that. 

**** 

Freddie spotted younger Brian and Roger off to the sides of the front row, followed by Sam and Dean. 

_“Inside my heart is breaking…”_ Adam began.

“Fuck you Dean, my beard is awesome,” Freddie sang, before they sang the next line together. 

The bridge was next. 

Freddie thought of it in a burst of inspiration, even as he feared he wouldn’t be able to do it. If he cracked his head open in the future, after all, what would that mean for his past? 

But they were cheering for him, even if they didn’t understand how he could be back. And for the first time, he was watching Brian, Roger and John watch him.   
Better put on a show. 

_“My soul is painted like the wings of butterflies...”_ He made his way to the edge of the stage and climbed atop a riser. _“Fairytales of yesterday will grow but never die.”_ He started to run. _“I can fly…”_ He jumped. _“My friends!”_

Someone shrieked. Another person passed out. 

But Freddie had landed, softly and safely, in the waiting arms of the 90’s Brian and Roger. 

He let out a sigh of relief that he only had a second to enjoy, listening as current day Brian and Roger hurriedly supplied a backing vocal line of the chorus. 

Brian gave him a foothold as he sang, _“I’ll face it with a grin - I’m never giving in…”_ Back on stage now - _“On with the show!”_

He leaned down and offered the past Brian a hand, pulling him and then Roger up on stage. Roger then helped up a reluctant John. 

He continued to sing, feeling heady and giddy, finally running center stage - “...show!” 

He heard them sing the last line behind him as he stumbled backstage. 

“Freddie, you okay?” Asked both of the Brians. 

“I sleep now,” he mumbled, and fell over. 

****

They managed to find Freddie a clear part of the floor in Roger’s dressing room (as Brian’s was rather crowded), laying a blanket out underneath him and providing him with a pillow someone had conjured up. He curled into it, yawning even in his sleep.

“Can we stay with him?” Today’s Brian asked. “It’s been… a long time since we could just sit here with Freddie.”

2019 Roger nodded in agreement. 

“Give you time to do what you need to do,” he continued. “Since I know you’ll probably need to be getting back, soon.”

“We trust you,” John said with a shy smile. “We know you’ll take good care of him.”

The elder Brian reached down and gently stroked Freddie’s hair, crouching down by him. 

“Good night, Freddie. You did good.”

***

“Look at the hashtags,” Adam exclaimed, “#ItsAMiracle… #FreddieLives… #TheBeardMustGoOn…”

“Who knew?” Past Brian asked. “I didn’t know Freddie would be such a hit with the digital age.”

Freddie opened his eyes at hearing his name and sleepily declared, putting a hand up in the air, “Red Bull gives me wings of butterflies… Fairytales of yester…” 

“Go to bed Freddie,” both Brians said.

“’Night Brians.”

****

“So we have to ask,” Dean said, as the past Queen prepared to go back into the portal, “Are there any other rock musicians who are secretly hunters?”

“Well, of course, dear,” Freddie replied.

“Yeah – like who?”

“Jethro Tull.”

“…Seriously?”

“Yeah, what did you think the song Hunting Girl was really about, after all?”

“Goodbye, guys,” Sam and Dean said.

“Goodbye, past us,” Brian and Roger said to their past selves and Freddie.

Freddie peeked at Adam’s cell phone, examining a photo of himself in the These Are the Days Of Our Lives video. He nodded at himself.

“I still love you,” he said with a smile, then passed the phone back to Adam. “What’s Birdbox, anyway?”

“I’ll tell you next time,” Adam said with a smile. 

“Will you tell future John about this?” past Roger asked.

“Please don’t. I would think that you’re all…”

“Knitting with only one needle?” Freddie supplied.

They chuckled and exchanged looks as the portal began to glow. 

They stepped inside, vanishing into silhouettes against the sky. 

***

The four Queen boys throttled through the portal and found themselves back at the studio.

The television was still on from where one of them, or maybe one of the techs, had forgotten to turn it off. 

“Weren’t we supposed to be filming this video?” John asked. “We’re going to be so behind schedule.”

“And we’re counting down,” the news anchor said, “Get your champagne ready, London, because it’s going to be in thirty seconds…”

“Grab me some champagne,” Freddie urged, and John obliged, popping a cork on a bottle in the fridge and finding four glasses.

“Freddie, should you really be…”

“Shut up, Brian.”

“Five, four, three, two, one…! It’s 1991!”

Freddie downed his champagne and slung an arm that somehow encircled them all.

“Bring it on, darlings.” He looked back and forth at all of them and sang, _“And you can’t stop rockin’ and there’s nothing you can do about it…”_

**The End**


End file.
